Fear, Hope and Contentment
by arinhel.melleide
Summary: 'Peter Quill looks around dazedly, his mask dematerializing in front of his eyes. Why is everyone staring at him? He hears shouting, but it seems so far away. It could be his name, but everything sounds like it's under water. Everything else is starting to get real blurry, too. And what is that wet feeling in his right side.' Mostly Starmora, but has all the Guardians involved.


_A/N: I know this isn't my usual writing fandom (not that I have one), but I just loved Gaurdians so much that I had to write this. It's got a little bit of everything and everyone, but is mainly about Peter and Gamora (cause I'm a huge sucker for that ship. Starmora FTW!). Anyway I hope you enjoy reading this piece of Peter whump avec Starmora!_

 _I do not own the Marvel Cinematic Universe, that would be Disney..._

* * *

Peter Quill looks around dazedly, his mask dematerializing in front of his eyes.

Why is everyone staring at him? He hears shouting, but it seems so far away. It could be his name, but everything sounds like it's under water. Everything else is starting to get real blurry, too. And what is that wet feeling in his right side? He puts a hand there and then pulls it away.

His hand is red with Terran blood. His blood. Peter looks down and sees a hole in his side. That's when his knees give out and he collapses.

This doesn't feel like the ground, though. Feels like a person – a female person – gently lowering him down and laying him in their lap.

The sky's so bright. And…orange? What's up with that?!

There's a green-ish woman-ish shape above of him – blocking his view of the ridiculous sky – and a short brown-ish grey blur next to her. He's pretty sure he knows them, but can't remember their names. Sounds are still so far away, but Peter thinks they might be talking. He definitely thinks he hears his name. Something moves and he can see the sky again, and shuts his eyes against the brightness – and to deny the strangeness of it.

Skies are supposed to be blue, dammit!

His eyelid is pulled open, and the green shape is right in front of his face. He's confused, because he thinks it's a face he knows, but it's all backwards. He groans and blinks at the strange input to his already muddled brain.

"He's in shock!" That came through, the voice is coming from the green face and it sounds worried. The brown-grey shape moves to the hole in his side. There's a pressure there now.

Why doesn't it hurt yet? Not that he's complaining, just confused. It is at this point that his brain decides to work properly.

Eyes slamming shut, Quill makes a noise somewhere between a scream and a groan as the pain finally registers in his brain. The rest of the world comes back in that same moment. Sounds of gunfire, enraged screams, and shouts of 'I AM GROOT!' are now coming through with a painful clarity. The green thing touching his face – at least he thinks it's still the green thing – is slapping at his cheek and gently shaking his head.

"Peter! Can you hear me?!" Female voice, green skin…

"G'mora?" He asks between groans of pain.

"It's me, Peter. I'm here." Feeling a soothing hand on the side of his face, Peter leans into it, and opens his eyes to a most wonderful sight. Gamora leaning over him with concern – and something else he can't quite make out – on her face. He manages a small smile and a 'Hi'. She smiles back at him briefly.

"Well, at least the moron's conscious. If the jackass had passed out, then he probably wouldn't have woken up ever again." Snarky attitude, gruff voice laced with concern, and the brown-grey blur...Definitely Rocket.

"Thanks f'r carin', Asshole." Quill gets out before Rocket applies more pressure to the wound, which causes him to groan louder.

"Yeah, yeah. Now shut up, or you're gonna make it worse." Peter nods, closing his eyes again and leaning into the soft caresses of the deadliest woman in the galaxy. That thought almost makes him laugh, almost. Even thinking about laughing hurts.

One of Gamora's hands is still on his face – occasionally running her fingers in his scruff – but the other is just resting on his shoulder. Going slowly and carefully, the noble Star-lord moves his arm so he can rest his hand on hers. She must have noticed his efforts, because her hand meets his halfway.

Quill can feel Rocket tying something around his middle, causing him to flinch and groan as the raccoon tightens and ties off the makeshift bandage. Peter lifts his head and glares at the rodent, the only effect of which is to cause himself more pain. Well, not the only effect. Gamora gently pulls his head back down and starts running her fingers through his hair. He is also vaguely aware that Gamora's fingers have laced with his, and that her thumb is slowly rubbing back and forth on the back of his hand.

If it weren't for the excruciating pain of the hole in his right side, this would have been his heaven.

The sounds of fighting have finally died off, and he can see Drax and Groot standing slightly behind Rocket.

"Friend Quill, we have avenged your grievous injury by afflicting much more grievous mutilation upon our adversaries." Trust the walking thesaurus to use big words on the half-conscious guy. But Peter forces a quick smile and tries to give him a thumbs up. It doesn't really work. Which is just as well, 'cause Drax probably wouldn't have understood and Peter does _not_ have the energy to explain.

"I am Groot?" Peter still only has a slight grasp of what Groot is trying to say most of the time. Right now, the pain and dizziness – not to mention Gamora's caresses – aren't making it any easier, but the concern in his voice is pretty clear.

"Yeah, buddy. He'll be okay," Rocket's still the only one who actually understands Groot. "As long as he doesn't do anything else to get himself shot. But we gotta get him some real medical treatment, and soon." 'Real medical treatment?'…that means…

"No hosp'als, y'guys. Don' like 'em." He slurs – blood loss is a bitch – while trying to wave his arm. His fingers twitch.

"Drax, you must carry him back to the _Milano_." Gamora. Her voice is so nice, but it's starting to sound far away again. Isn't he on her lap?

Wait, no.

Don't stop touching his head.

Don't let go of his hand!

NO, don't let him be picked up by the muscle-bound whack-job!

"Careful not to jostle the bandage, it was a rush job. I'm gonna go ahead and prep the ship for launch, you just get him there, okay?"

"I will do as you say, my furry comrade." Peter is shifted slightly in the ridiculously large arms and groans. There is a slender hand on his forehead briefly.

"You are going to live, Peter." The tenderness and hope in her voice soothe him. "And once you are healed, I am going to be very, _very_ angry with you." But now, the wrath scares the shit out of him, and he welcomes oblivion with open arms.

* * *

Peter Jason Quill has been unconscious for nearly three days now, and Gamora has not left his side for more than a few minutes in all that time.

A member of the hospital staff tried to get her to leave once, he made the mistake of pulling on her arm. He is now in a room two floors down with a broken wrist, three fractured ribs, and a mild concussion. Drax and Rocket are currently in the hospital mess hall getting food for the three of them and a large jug of water for Groot. The _Flora Colossus_ has not left the room at all, cradling Peter's Walkman as if it was a delicate baby bird.

The Nova Corps doctors are almost certain that Peter will heal. They said that the serums being administered will repair or regrow anything that was damaged in the fight. Unfortunately, they have not studied much Terran biology, and are not entirely sure what permanent damage had already been done before he arrived. Nor do they know how the other species he is derived from will affect his recovery.

"Why would Peter do something so stupid? He should have known that I could have been shot by a blaster and still kept on fighting!" Gamora grumbles to herself as she looks down at the man lying in the hospital bed. He appears to merely be asleep, and any moment he could wake up asking for waffles and whipped cream.

He is just so ridiculous! Always insisting that he be the hero, the leader, that it is _his_ job to protect _them_. He is the most fragile out of all of them! Well…perhaps that is not entirely true…Holding the Infinity Stone in his bare hand and not disintegrating instantly was pretty miraculous. But still! Throwing himself in the way of danger to protect her?! Repeatedly!

The assassin would not have believed it of him a few months ago. From what information Gamora had gathered when tracking him on Xandar, she had discovered him to have been a wholly selfish creature. Not caring about anyone beyond himself. A 'starry-eyed waif' left at every star-port and planet, a host of people who he had double-crossed, and an even angrier group who wanted his head.

The ordeal with Ronan and the orb had changed him. Or perhaps it had merely awoken something inside him? She had seen glimpses of a strange sort of nobility and honor in him during their time together so far. She had not been entirely lying when they had met and she said he had the bearing of a man of honor. Then he would ruin it by saying or doing something stupid, selfish, or egotistical. Usually it was all three.

She occasionally wonders if he does it on purpose.

Gamora just stares at hers and Peter's intertwined hands, occasionally squeezing his and looking for a reaction, but never getting one. That is what scares her the most about this whole scenario.

He has not moved. In nearly three days hyperactive, dancing, always fidgety Peter, has not budged. Sure, he's breathing and all that, but he has not even twitched a finger since arriving here three days ago.

 _I must have been through about a million girls._

 _I'd love 'em and I'd leave them alone._

Humming along with the music, the deadliest woman in the galaxy lays her head down on their joined hands. Resigning herself to another night of worry.

Wait…music? That's Peter's music!

The green woman shoots up to a sitting position to see a curious sight.

Groot, leaning over Peter and carefully placing the headphones over the half-Terran's ears. Almost in the same instant, a tension in his face, which she had not even noticed before this moment, suddenly releases. A couple of the machines make a few extra beeps. Gamora glances over and sees it was the heart and brainwave monitors, hope flaring in her chest.

"Well done, Groot!" Looking up into the tree-man's face, each of them beaming from ear to ear. "You are a genius!"

"I am Groot." He says, shrugging his shoulders and looking almost bashful.

She feels Peter's fingers curl around hers, and the former assassin whips her head around to his face. There is the barest hint of a smile and an air of contentedness surrounds him. He is not yet awake, but now she thinks he truly is just sleeping. She lays her head back down and closes her eyes, thinking back to when she first heard the melody.

* * *

 _Ooga Chaka Ooga Ooga Ooga Chaka_

 _I can't stop this feeling_

 _Deep inside of me._

 _Girl, you just don't realize_

 _What you do to me._

'Hooked on a Feeling' _Blue Swede, 1973_. This song belongs to him.

Did he fall asleep listening to his music again? No, this isn't his bunk on the _Milano_.

God, what is that pain in his side?! And that weird itch on his arm? And why can't he really feel his other arm?

Quill opens his eyes in a panic, and shuts them again instantly, severely regretting his decision. Everything is so goddamn bright! He groans and tries again, with more success. He looks down at one arm to discover the source of the itch.

An IV. Looking over he sees a number of machines that seem to be monitoring his vitals and stuff. Finally, building up the courage, he looks at his other arm. His brain pauses, trying to understand what he is seeing.

His arm is still there – he is relieved to see – but Gamora, former assassin and current deadliest woman in the galaxy, is asleep on it. She's got her fingers laced with his, too. Holding tightly. Peter takes another second to fully process this information before a grin breaks out on his face.

"Finally decided to rejoin the land of the living, Quill?" Peter has a hard time making himself look away from the beautiful green woman attached to his arm, but he does. Pulling the headphones off with his free hand he turns to see Rocket hopping down from the windowsill.

"Yeah, the music sucks over there." His throat feels dry, like he hasn't spoken in days, and he coughs quietly. "Nothing to drink, either." Peter whispers. Not that he would have spoken any louder, he doesn't want to wake Gamora. He looks back at her, smile widening again as he takes her in.

"Wipe that smug smile off your face, ya idiot." The raccoon walks around the other side of the bed and hops up to sit next to him. "Here," Peter is surprised to see a cup of ice in a furry hand and he looks at it dumbly for a moment. "The docs said no water, but ice is fine." Rocket shakes to cup for emphasis.

"Thanks, man." Peter says after he pops a piece in his mouth. His eyes are drawn back down to his arm – the woman attached to it more specifically – as he chews. He sits up slowly, moving carefully so as not to disturb his wound, or said woman.

"Ya know she's gonna rip you a new one, right?" His music stops and he hears the sound of the play button on his walk-man popping back up.

"Some things are worth the pain, Ranger Rick." He tears his eyes from her to glance at Rocket. "And she is definitely one of those things." Quill grins wryly at him.

"Oh, don't be such a friggin' sap, Star-boy. What you did was stupid and you know it." Rocket pokes him in the chest for emphasis.

Star- _Lord_ normally would have bristled and argued with the raccoon, but he doesn't want to wake Gamora. Plus, he kinda started it. So, he just shrugs and looks around the rest of the room. He sees Groot and Drax asleep in the corner, leaning against each other.

"How long have I been here?" Turning back to face the furry member of their team.

"'Bout three days."

"She's been here the whole time?"

"Pretty much."

"She's gonna kill me isn't she?"

"It would be counter-productive to kill you now, after all the effort I have put in to keep you alive." Both males pause, turning to stare at Gamora's deceptively innocent, 'sleeping' face. The corner of her mouth twitches up as her eyes open. "I will more likely maim you in some way."

"How long have you been awake?" Peter asks, hoping she hasn't heard him gulping. She ignores his question entirely.

"Though, you will need all your limbs and appendages. You have enough problems fighting as it is." Gamora continues as she sits up and stretches, a small piece of hope rekindles in Peter. "Perhaps just breaking an arm and a rib or two. Certain to cause discomfort, but no lasting damage if done properly." Hope dies. She's staring him in the eye now, and that fear from three days before comes back with a vengeance.

Peter notices Drax moving in his peripheral vision, but he doesn't dare take his eyes away from Gamora's face. He's afraid she will make good on her threat of bodily harm right there and then if he does. Drax grabs Rocket by the scruff and hauls him to the door, kicking and screaming. Groot is already in the doorway, waving. Peter glances over just in time to see him give a thumbs up and a smile. Bunch a cowards and traitors, leaving him alone with an angry Gamora.

They stare at each other for a moment. Fearing the possibility of pain, Peter keeps his mouth shut, waiting for her to say something first.

"Why?" He was expecting more than that. A tirade on his stupidity, or- "Why, in the name of all that you hold dear, would you do something so stupid, reckless, and idiotic?!" Okay, that's more like it. Not better, but he's used to dealing with anger.

"Well, he ha-"

"I don't want to hear excuses, Peter Jason Quill!" Ouch, full-name usage. And hey, she just cut him off!

"You asked me 'why'!" He shouts back incredulously, but that sends him into a coughing fit.

"It was mostly rhetorical." She tells him coolly while handing him the cup of ice. He begrudgingly takes a piece and chews. "There can be no actual reason behind your behavior, other than your constant need to _appear_ strong, and heroic, and-"

"He had an EMP round!" Peter shouts, and cuts her off for a change. She just stares at him, blinking in confusion.

"What?" Gamora asks quietly.

"It wasn't just a regular blaster. It had physical rounds, _EMP_ rounds. None of your mods would have been functioning." He pauses to take another piece of ice.

"How could you have known that, Peter?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"The HUD on my mask. That thing is for more than just looking cool, ya know. It's got an X-ray filter on it, too." He grins and wags his eyebrows in an attempt to move away from more frightening subjects.

"Drop the act, Peter, you are hooked up to a heart monitor. It is almost as good as a lie detector." Damn it all to hell! Why's she gotta be so observant?

"It's not entirely an act, I'll have you know." He grabs another piece of ice and chews it for a moment. "I just might turn up the volume sometimes, when I think I need to. Plus, I got a reputation as a reckless, egotistical hero to uphold." Cheeky grin back in place.

"Peter," Gamora says in a quiet but admonishing tone, an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, habit. In all seriousness, Gamora." His grin fades, and he can't look at her face anymore. So, instead, he focuses on their still joined hands. "I have no idea of even half the stuff Thanos put you through, but I know you've been in pain for most of your life, and I- I-" Gosh, he sounds so pathetic right now, choking on his own words.

With any other woman, Star-Lord would have no problem delivering cheesy, sappy lines that seem to drip with emotion, but this is Gamora. She is on a completely different level than any other woman in the galaxy, and Peter loves her. Really, truly _in_ love with her, loves her, and that scares the crap out of him.

She moves to sit on the bed, and he stares at her lap. She's obviously waiting for him to finish, but it's just so damn hard to say.

"You what, Peter?" She uses her free hand to caress his cheek, and he closes his eyes, leaning into it. Opening them after a moment, his gaze roams over her face, taking in the silver markings. He's never had the nerve to ask if she was born with them, or if they're surgical scars. He runs a finger over them delicately, and it's Gamora's turn to close her eyes and lean into his touch.

"I can't stand to see you hurt, 'Mora." She opens her eyes as a single tear runs down her cheek, he wipes it away.

"Thank you, Peter Quill." Leaning her forehead against his, and closing her eyes. He does the same, with a quiet sigh of contentment. Both of them reveling in the presence of the other, alive and well. Peter will to tell her someday – really he will – but, for now, this moment is perfect.

* * *

 _A/N: So, good, bad, somewhere in between? I would love to know what you all think about this and if I should keep writing in this fandom or be run outta town with pitchforks... Sorry it's late and I had tiring workday..._


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